Simple Complications
by Shadow Countess
Summary: Life is simple. Complicated. Contradictory. Because something that took a lifetime to achieve can be unraveled by a single decision. Trudy Chacon threw her past, her present, her future, her dreams, and her life away because she made that single decision.


**Disclaimer: **Avatar and all related concepts belong to James Cameron. I own nothing save this plot.

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**Simple Complications**  
_A Trudy Chacon One-shot_

**_By Shadow Countess_**

**~.~.~.~**

_**This is a tribute to Trudy Chacon, an awesome fighter who had died protecting her beliefs and those who are truly innocent. Rest in peace.**_

**~.~.~.~**

Anger.

Hatred.

Revenge.

She was going to scream. Not from physical pain, but from the emotions ripping through her frame. It stung like ants nipping her flesh, like flames licking her skin. The pain, torture, agony...But she knew it was nothing compared to the deep sorrow and rage the Na'vis felt. They were the ones who had lost their homes, families, friends, and their sacred tree, their only link to their ancestors. Everything was gone, blown away, by the damn humans.

She, Trudy Chacon, was going to help them get their revenge so long she was alive and kicking. She was not going down without a fight. She was going to kill that bastard of a colonel to avenge Grace.

Even if that meant throwing away everything she had completed and achieved in the past twenty-seven years of her life. Those years of toiling beneath the unrelenting sun; those years spent showing guys that she was better, smarter, faster; those years of hardship and pain. She was going to leave them all behind.

Or maybe, she was doing this for all those years. Because those years had been spent training a true soldier, one with moral and justice. And that was what set her apart from the others; that was what made her her, made her Trudy Chacon.

The tips of her fingers ghosted her cheeks, leaving white and blue paint marks. A smirk curved her lips; she really was turning traitor. Dark hair swayed in the high ponytail she kept it in. Fingers coiled around the control; she gunned the engine.

Her Samson, the one granted to her by the accursed humans, took flight with a loud whir. Beautiful eyes of molten chocolate narrowed as she lifted herself into the air and headed to the fight. The fight till death...Her death.

The battle between the humans and the Na'vis was going on at full height when she joined the Ikran warriors of the skies, the gorgeous blue skies that would disappear if R.D.A. got its way. A delicate brow arched as she spied a whirl of fiery red, orange and yellow swooping and dodging to evade the attacks of a monstrous machine of black.

Jake.

Judging by the way things were going, he wasn't going to make it out alive. Sure, the magnificent beast he rode was a work of art—the way it ducked and soared to avoid the waves of firearms and missiles was impressive—but it wasn't enough. Flesh against metal...It was only too clear who the victor would be.

An impish grin with touch of sinister menace played across her tanned features. The colonel had been getting his way for long enough. Too long, in fact. And she would be the one wiping that smug leer off his face. Her fingernails, rugged from constant mistreatment, tapped on the hard red button that would seal her fate. Fingertips caressed the round knob...

...And she pressed.

Bullets, missiles, explosives, flew towards the C-21 Dragon Assault Ship the colonel was aboard, shattering the glass windows and stunning the bastard. Despite the distance between them two, she could feel his flaring fury and detestation.

"Oops," she muttered. An easy grin coiled her lips. Bull's eye.

Hatred twisted the colonel's features into a snarl, making it even uglier than usual. He opened fire. With trained agility, the black plane dropped a couple of feet, dodging the attack, before retaliating.

"You're not the only one with a gun, bitch!" Pleasure tingled her every nerve as her missiles found their marks. With a huge plane like the Dragon, Miles was having a hard time eluding. Only it was better equipped than her tiny Samson.

She flinched when a wave of explosives shattered the windows of her loyal, beloved plane and tore the engine apart. Searing pain ripped through her frame. A soft moan tumbled from her full lips as a shard of glass embedded in her flesh. It hurt a damn lot.

She was losing height, plummeting towards the ground tens of miles below. That is, if her Samson didn't explode into a ball of fiery inferno first.

Damn it.

She had one last chance to become a hero, to become the one who resolved the biggest, fiercest war in the Na'vis' history. And she was going to take that one chance.

"Norm, I love you," were her last words, icy, clipped, and pilot-like.

And the last thing Colonel Miles saw was the black Samson with its painted tiger zooming towards him. The last thing he did was to shout, scream, at his pilot to do something, anything, to save his sorry ass as Trudy Chacon and her majestic Tiger crashed into his Dragon head on...

And exploded.

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**Authoress' Note:** I got this idea when watching the film. Trudy was hit, and I just visualized her doing a kamikaze run towards the Dragon. Too bad it didn't happen, but that's how I want things to go if she really does die. If not, I'm perfectly fine with her living.

Feel free to review and criticize as you deem fit. I'm open to anonymous reviews and critiques so long they're objective. Thank you.


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